by C. A. Worley
Their families sent them to Viktor, gifting the females as if they were chattel to be traded. He knew their hope was he would choose one and blood-bond with her. Or, at the very least, they hoped to gain favor with their liege.
He was always clear with his intentions, plainly communicating that bonding to any of the ladies of the Komora would never happen, but the families sent them anyway. He pitied the ones who were timid, who weren’t shrewd enough to know they were expected to fulfill his every desire, not just give their blood.
Those were the ones he made sure learned some sort of trade immediately. They needed some way to find a purpose outside of his feeding room. He did not want to feel as if he was taking advantage.
As the years passed, however, and the females became accustomed to their newfound freedom, many of them grew bold. Some became aggressive, vying for his attention. Those were the ones he called for most often. The King greatly enjoyed a willing body, and enjoyed it often.
He never let himself dwell on the concept of the Komora for long. He’d always believed he had done as best he could for those living within its walls. By his standards, their arrangement was mutually beneficial.
Viktor gave the females a comfortable place to stay and encouraged them to pursue whatever was of interest, including other males. His soldiers and guards fed them, and, if the females were willing, they fed his men. Over the decades, several had even mated. All with his blessing.
If any of them moved out of the Komora, they were quickly replaced. A constant blood supply was imperative to Viktor and his army. He’d always believed the Komora would be here at the ready, no matter to whom he was wed.
He assumed his men would continue their arrangement and Viktor would, as well. He’d never contemplated marrying for love, much less finding his sieva.
Now, standing here in the small courtyard, he questioned his egotistical assumption. Seeking out these females did not feel right.
Viktor didn’t really want to be here. It had been years since he’d even stepped foot into their living space, but he needed blood—a great deal of it—fast. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d touched his mate’s most intimate of places.
He needed to take care of his needs immediately, preferably in one of the private feeding rooms where few could witness his maniacal state. The females slept communally but preferred to feed and be fed in private. Sex almost always followed and, while free with their bodies, orgies weren’t what they desired.
Burying his rampant thoughts, Viktor stepped out from the column. The few Prajna near him halted. The King had never ported here unannounced.
Viktor grabbed one of the closest females, pulling her close. She pressed against his quaking body, batting her eyelashes.
“You will meet me in the feeding room across from the bathing chamber,” he commanded.
“Shall I come with you now, my liege?” she asked in a sultry tone, her hand rubbing over the rigid flesh barely contained in his trousers. “I am at your service.”
“No. Go gather others. Today I’ll need more than one.”
Viktor released her and strode towards the room to prepare it for his multiple guests.
“Others?” she asked. “How many do you require?”
“Ten. No, a dozen.”
Her eyes grew big. Occasionally he took two at a time. Once, long ago, he’d fed from three. He’d been wounded and needed to heal.
“Now!” he snapped. He was King. He would not explain himself.
* * *
For a second, Eden didn’t move. She couldn’t fathom what had gone wrong. How could he give her such physical delight, then simply vanish?
Something had spooked him, and it had something to do with her blood. She was under the impression he was supposed to want her blood, not run away from it.
Was the blood down there … different? Had it displeased him? It wasn’t like she could control it. Eden was untouched. Viktor should have expected blood at some point.
During her lessons on “wifely duties,” she learned bleeding was customary the first time. Surely, he would have been taught the same, even if he had never been with a virgin. Though, technically, what he had done to her wasn’t exactly sex.
Eden worried her body’s response had turned him off, that she’d reacted too wantonly. It had all felt natural, but she was his virgin mate, maybe she should act like one.
She’d gone from one extreme to another. First, not once in her life had she ever had any inclination whatsoever to seek out a male. Then, after meeting a tall, dark, and dangerous vampire, she was having a fit to get the male inside her. Her face colored in shame.
Eden was offended by his desertion, but mostly she was disappointed. She finally experienced something wonderful, only to have it ripped away.
The constriction in her chest was one she hadn’t felt in years. She felt inadequate. Her feminine wiles, what little she possessed, had not been enough to keep the male who claimed she was his fated mate.
The cicatrice answered with its reassuring power, telling her she was incorrect. He had ardently participated, done things to her to ensure she was satisfied. The problem must be something else.
Picturing his tortured face took away some of the sting. She considered going to look for him, but with his ability to teleport, he could be anywhere.
Moreover, her clothing was destroyed. Leaving the room naked was not an option. At least her favorite boots were still intact.
Eden leaned forward to remove them and winced. She was a little sore. Ignoring the slight irritation from his brief penetration, she unzipped her boots and put them next to the fireplace.
She gathered what was left of her clothing and threw it into the flames. Eden used her magic to make sure the fire burned hot enough to turn the rags into ash. She left on the glove, no longer trusting a soul-bond was in her immediate future.
Several drops of blood, mixed with her own fluids, trickled down the inside of her thigh. She watched as it slowly inched down her leg, reflecting the glint of light from the flames.
Mesmerized, she watched until it reached the floor. It reminded her of the room’s ornamentation. Dark. Morose. Fitting of a being known as Heartless.
Eden found it perplexing how an act which had wrenched nothing but pleasure from her body had also caused minor damage. She had been in such ecstasy, she’d felt nothing else. Not until he’d ported away from her.
With nothing else to do, Eden went into the bathing chamber. It was old-fashioned. Fortunately, it did have a system of running water and stones for heating. Though, elementals who could control fire had no need of heated stones.
She filled the bathing pool, which was too large to be called a tub. It was square, with stone steps on all four sides leading down to deeper water. If Viktor was standing in the center, the water would be up to his chest.
Around the edges were various soaps and sponges sitting in expensive-looking dishes. There were far too many for one person. Just like his bedroom, his bath was opulent.
Once the water level was high enough, she removed the glove, put both hands into the water, and pushed heat down into the pool. She continued until steam rose off the surface. Then she lowered her body into the delicious warmth.
As she washed, she imagined Viktor returning and joining her. She wanted his hands on her again, despite his earlier behavior. She hated herself a little for it.
It would have been easier for Eden if he’d spoken, communicating whatever had spooked him. Instead, he said nothing and she was left to make sense of it on her own.
She felt a headache coming on. They always came when she was close to losing herself to her emotions. Her father believed it was due to the tension that resulted from never allowing herself to feel what she should.
With the evidence of their activities washed away, Eden drained the pool and pulled air currents to dry her hair. She had control over more than fire, though, her father had advised her to never disclose all that she could do.
Eden put the glove back on, feeling exposed without any other clothing. She entered Viktor’s dressing room and took one of his shirts. It swallowed her, but it covered down to her knees, so it would do.
Rolling up the sleeves, she walked back to the fire, hoping to find a book on the mantel or something to keep her occupied. She stepped in something cold and wet. It was the remnants from earlier.
Eden looked at the chair, but the fabric was too dark to tell if it, too, was wet. She ran her hand over the fabric and felt a miniscule amount of dampness. Her fingers itched, as if they wanted to burn it away.
She returned to the bathing chamber and brought out a damp cloth with a bit of soap on it. She scrubbed the rug until the stain was no longer visible, then she cleaned the chair.
The white cloth now had a slight discoloration. Soiled, but not ruined. How fitting.
Not wanting any trace of whatever had upset Viktor lying around, she threw it in the fire and watched it burn.
Chapter 11
“More,” Viktor snapped, reaching for the next in line.
Sasha. This one he’d fed from often. He’d taken the vein of six already, but still his hunger rode him hard.
This female was the smallest of the lot, with a mane of light brunette. It reminded him of Eden’s. Her hair was up, so he wouldn’t have to hold it aside. This was good. He should have told the others to pin up their locks.
He also should have warned them they’d be denied climax. He was guilty enough for seeking them out in the first place. He would not add to the betrayal by bestowing the same pleasure reserved for his sieva.
One by one, he brought them to the brink. He fed until they were close and pushed them aside. Viktor sensed their frustration, but it was nothing compared to his own.
His cicatrice scorched painfully, as if screaming at him to stop. Where was the tenacious mark’s soothing balm now? his inner voice mocked.
Viktor would not cease until he’d dampened his need. He’d feed from a thousand, if he had to. He would not return to Eden until he had some semblance of control.
He wiped his mouth, clearing away what was left from the last feeding. As his fingers drifted past his nostrils, the tangy aroma of his sieva shocked his senses.
His eyes gleamed. His shaft swelled painfully under the constricting fabric of his clothing. For once, he was refusing sex while feeding. He hadn’t even considered it with these poor substitutes for what he truly wanted.
Now that a trace of sweet Eden was in his lungs he felt crazed, his body demanding release after that first taste of his mate. He bent Sasha over the bed and viciously bit into her neck.
She cried out and he closed his eyes, picturing Eden beneath him. Viktor ground his erection into Sasha’s backside as he fed from her artery.
Sasha moaned and held onto his hips, encouraging his movements. A handful of shallow thrusts and he knew something was not right. His palm fired electric bolts of lightning up his arm towards his heart. The pain jarred his senses, bringing him back to reality.
He swallowed what was in his mouth, grimacing. The taste was wrong. The taste was not that of his sweet Eden. Viktor withdrew his fangs, backing away in a stupor.
It wasn’t working. He’d imprudently believed he could be satisfied by the blood others. Sasha pushed off the bed until she was upright, smoothing down her dress. Viktor pointed towards the remaining females.
“Out,” he commanded.
Sasha’s lips quivered before she bowed her head and ran towards the group. They fled the room, leaving him alone in his misery. He sat on the cushioned bench near the bed, with his head in his hands. He was losing his damned mind.
Not long after, the door opened and Yuri, his lone advisor, entered.
“Viktor?” he said in his abnormally low voice, the one Viktor trusted above all others.
When Viktor and Yuri were young, someone had teased Yuri for his demon-like tone. Viktor knocked the aggressor unconscious and the pair’s alliance was forged.
Viktor didn’t acknowledge his friend.
“Are you alright?” Yuri tried again.
The King raised his head and Yuri knitted his brow. Viktor’s eyes were unusually bright, his hair in complete disarray. His shirt was untucked, and blood was smeared across his face.
Yuri reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He held it in front of Viktor, who, begrudgingly, snatched it and wiped his mouth and face.
Viktor never looked anything other than totally put-together. He’d never been reckless or driven by impulse. He was most often cold towards others, almost incapable of bringing himself to care for anything or anyone. Yuri knew otherwise, but the kingdom did not.
He also never came to the Komora. He sent for his females to be brought to his feeding room. Always.
“What’s going on?” Yuri tried again.
Viktor gave a humorless laugh and held up his left palm, the silver glow brighter than ever.
“Well, that certainly explains things,” Yuri mumbled.
He shut the door behind him and then sat on the bench next to Viktor.
“Where is she? Your sieva?”
“How do you know I’ve actually found her?”
“Because your cicatrice is practically burning a hole in your hand. You know once you’ve touched her you can’t stop it.”
Viktor scrubbed his face with both palms.
“I didn’t. I mean, I touched her, but I did not touch her mark.”
“Did you feed from her?”
“Not exactly.”
Yuri shook his head. “Care to explain what that means?”
“A drop was all, just enough for a taste. It wasn’t intentional.” Viktor had no intention of sharing the actual intimate details with anyone, not even Yuri.
Yuri leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. He noticed Viktor’s body was shaking, his hands clenched. His friend was wound so tight he was about to detonate from the pressure.
“You need to finish the soul-bond, Viktor.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“If this is about Bianca—”
“No. It has nothing to do with her, Yuri. You are not to bring her up again, especially not in front of Eden.”
“Eden? Your sieva’s name is Eden?”
Viktor nodded.
“I don’t believe I’ve met any female by that name.”
“You wouldn’t have. She is King Edward’s oldest daughter.”
Yuri covered his eyes, as if the information gave him a headache. He understood the complexity of Viktor’s situation. Unfortunately, the King was in the midst of something that could be neither stopped nor postponed. There was only one way forward.
“Where is she?”
“In our bed chamber.”
“Go back to her, Viktor. Finish what you’ve started. This,” he pointed to Viktor’s shivering body, “will only get worse. The longer you let it go, the more likely you are to do real damage to her.”
“That’s why I am here. I lost control and thought if I fed until sated I would be able to go back to her and ease her into it.”
Yuri chortled at his King’s foolhardy plan. As a mated male himself, he knew more of what to expect. It had been a hundred years since the last sieva pair had found one another. It seemed King Viktor had forgotten the pitfalls of the cicatrice’s will.
“You know the cicatrice will burn, will push you to feed, until you have gorged on your sieva’s blood.”
“Yes. I know. I only meant to take the edge off. She is an elemental. Tiny. I’m liable to kill her!”
Yuri laughed again. “Impossible. Eden is yours, Viktor. She is the only thing, the only being, in this world created just for you. You could never get that far gone, not where she is concerned. Your fated mate would not be one who was incapable of handling you, or your … requirements.”
Viktor knew this, had even acknowledged it earlier to himself. But he wasn’t thinking rationally, not since he’d swallo
wed that first drop.
“You have too much faith in me, Yuri.”
“No, I trust Fate. The Goddess has blessed you, Viktor. You’d best embrace it. The cicatrice will not steer you wrong.”
“Hasn’t it? It’s supposed to calm me, to help me control my emotions during this frenzy. Yet all I’m getting from it are burns and a drive to feed.”
“Exactly. That is what happens once you have consumed your sieva’s blood. The cicatrice becomes relentless, pushing you to madness until the bond is complete. Another’s blood will do nothing for you now. Has it really been so long that you have forgotten what every vampire has been taught?”
Viktor dropped his head.
“It would seem so,” he lamented, regretting his rash deeds.
“Go back to your room, Viktor. Don’t come out until tomorrow. Or the next day. I’ll sent food and sundries up later.”
Viktor stood, and Yuri followed.
“Could you send someone to the temple to gather Eden’s things? She was visiting with her father. That is how I found her.”
“I will do it immediately.”
Viktor took one step, then looked over his shoulder.
“How did you know I was in here?”
“One of the females came to my office after you pushed her out the door. You scared the hell out of her and she asked me to come immediately. You’re never out of control, so I knew something was off.”
“Hmm,” he hummed, holding up his unsteady hand. “Yes, I dare say something was off. Thank you, Yuri,” he bowed to his advisor.
“Of course, Sire, ‘twas nothing,” Yuri sputtered, unused to Viktor’s gratitude.
Viktor made to open the door when Yuri put his arm on his shoulder.
“Might I suggest you port from this room instead of walking through the Komora?”
That was probably wise. He’d left seven females aching for more. It wasn’t vanity speaking, it was simply what happened during a feeding.
“Agreed. You should invite some of the soldiers to tend the females. I will find you when I am finished with Eden.”
With that, Viktor ported away, leaving Yuri to carry out his instructions. For the first time in a century, Yuri was concerned for his King.